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Hermione looked around the playground, but as she had feared, the other children had all formed groups without her. She started towards a group of girls her age, but one saw her and whispered to the others, who quickly tightened their circle. Hermione got the message perfectly; she wasn't welcome.
She had begged her parents not to move, especially not in the middle of the school year, but they had been quite insistent. This was their chance to open up their own joint dental practice, where they could set their own hours, be around Hermione more, and increase their income (important for saving up for Hermione's future education). What was more, they were quite sure that a new school would get Hermione away from the bullying she had faced at her old one.
Eying the exclusive clique of girls, and the gang of brutish looking boys centered around a larger boy who's expression practically screamed 'bully', Hermione wasn't so sure. The children at her old school had disliked her for being smart and bookish, and neither quality had changed with her move. Plus, here, she was an outsider: a newcomer.
Continuing to inspect the playground, Hermione noticed that the bullies each kept glancing in the same direction and Hermione followed their gaze. There, she was surprised to discover, was another student on his own like her. He was huddled by the playground fence, seemingly unaware of the bullies' attention. However, Hermione knew from personal experience that he was probably intensely aware of their every move.
Was it wise, she debated, to try to befriend someone so obviously disliked? Would that simply give her the exact same problems she had had at her old primary school? Perhaps she should try the girls' clique again. They might be standoffish because she was new, but they could warm up to her, given a chance.
Hermione snorted. That thought was purely her mother's; in seven years of her life, no one had ever warmed up to Hermione, despite the chances she gave them. Anyone who seemed even remotely willing to befriend her would then turn on her as soon as her love of books or great grades were revealed. That is, if they didn't first reject her because of her parents' profession - unsurprisingly not that popular with children.
Her feet made their choice before her mind did, as Hermione found herself walking towards the small lone boy. He looked up when he heard her coming, his eyes darting behind thick glasses as he took her in.
"Hello," she said, offering her hand. "I just transferred here. My name is Hermione."
The boy glanced fearfully between her hand and her face before whispering, "Please leave."
Hermione glanced at the gang of bullies and frowned. "I'm not scared of them," she insisted. It was a bit of a lie, but being afraid of bullies had never stopped her from standing up to them before.
"They'll hurt you for being my friend," the boy explained. Hermione could tell from his expression that he knew this from experience.
"I'm not scared of them," she repeated. The boy gave her a wry look; he knew she was lying. Hermione decided to amend her declaration. "Much. Anyway, I have nowhere else to go."
And that was the truth. The boy seemed to recognize it too, and after a long moment's consideration, he reluctantly held out his hand.
Hermione grasped it, shaking it firmly. "Hermione Granger."
With a faint smile, the boy replied, "Harry Potter."